Chapter 7: The Misunderstanding Grows

Chapter 7: The Misunderstanding Grows

Yamauca sat stiffly in a cold metal chair, his hands folded in his lap. The room was eerily quiet, with only the faint hum of magic from the enchanted one-way mirror keeping him company. His heart pounded in his chest. Is this where it ends?

His mind began to wander. If they’re going to execute me, do you think I could ask for a last meal? What would I even order? A whole roast chicken? No, too messy. Maybe a nice steak... Wait, do they have soy sauce in this world? Oh, and dessert! Definitely dessert. Something with chocolate.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the mirror, Captain Reynard stood before his superior, Commander Orlan. The commander was a grizzled man with a permanent frown etched into his face. He turned to Reynard, arms crossed.

“Reynard,” Orlan began, his tone sharp, “have you been drinking on duty?”

Reynard blinked, taken aback. “What? Of course not, sir!”

“Then how do you explain that?” Orlan jabbed a finger toward the mirror.

Through the magical glass, they could both see the detainee—Yamauca—sitting there, lost in thought with a soft, innocent expression. His delicate features, fair skin, and sparkling eyes gave off the impression of a harmless, doe-eyed maiden.

Orlan scoffed. “You’re telling me that girl—”

“Boy,” Reynard corrected.

Orlan shot him a look. “Boy? Reynard, are you sure? Because what I see is a girl who couldn’t hurt a fly, let alone perform the heinous acts you’ve described.”

Reynard hesitated. “I... I swear, Commander, I saw her—I mean, him—torturing those demons with dark magic. They were screaming in agony!”

Orlan raised an eyebrow. “Screaming?”

“Yes!” Reynard said, his voice rising. “It wasn’t just that! The whole alley was covered in blood! Those demons were begging for their lives!”

Orlan waved his hand dismissively. “Now, now, Reynard. Look at her again—right now.”

Reynard sighed and turned back to the mirror. Yamauca was staring at the floor, his brows furrowed as though in deep contemplation.

How am I supposed to pick one dessert? Yamauca thought. Maybe I should just order a platter... no, that’s too greedy. They’ll think I’m shameless. What about pie? Do they even have pie? Maybe—

Reynard watched Yamauca tilt his head slightly, a troubled yet oddly adorable expression crossing his face.

“She’s clearly traumatized,” Orlan said. “Look at her! That’s the face of someone struggling with the horrors they’ve seen.”

Reynard frowned. “But—”

“Reynard,” Orlan interrupted. “Does she look like someone capable of torturing demons?”

Reynard hesitated, glancing between the mirror and his commander. It’s true, he thought reluctantly. She looks like she just saw a kitten fall out of a tree and is now questioning the meaning of life.

“Maybe I was wrong...” Reynard muttered. But then his eyes narrowed. “Or maybe... maybe she has a split personality!”

Orlan froze. “A split personality?”

“Yes!” Reynard said, growing animated. “Think about it. One side is this innocent, pure soul who wouldn’t harm a bug, and the other is a cruel, heartless monster who tortures demons for fun!”

Orlan rubbed his chin, considering the idea.

“But,” Reynard continued, his voice lowering, “what if it’s not that? What if... it’s all an illusion?”

“An illusion?” Orlan’s voice dropped to a whisper.

“Yes. An illusion so powerful that it could fool even elite knights like us,” Reynard said, shuddering. “If that’s true, then we’re dealing with someone far more dangerous than we thought.”

Orlan took a step back, his face pale. “If that’s the case... we might need to involve the Holy Council.”

Both men stood in silence, unnerved by the implications.

---

Inside the Detention Room

Yamauca tapped his fingers on the armrest of the chair, his patience wearing thin. His stomach growled.

How long are they going to keep me here? he thought, glancing around the room. Maybe if I’m polite, they’ll let me order something. Should I go for something extravagant, like a whole feast? No, they’ll think I’m a glutton. But what if I don’t ask, and they give me prison gruel?

He groaned quietly. I can’t go out like this. Not without cake.

Suddenly, he sat up straight. Wait, what if they don’t even give me a last meal? What if they just drag me to the gallows?!

He slumped back in his chair, defeated. “I just wanted to live quietly,” he muttered under his breath.

---

Back Outside the Room

Reynard leaned closer to Orlan. “Commander, what do we do if she—I mean, he—tries to use that illusion magic on us?”

Orlan scowled. “Stay vigilant. If we see even a hint of magic, we’ll strike first.”

Reynard nodded grimly, gripping the hilt of his sword. But as he turned back to the mirror, Yamauca let out a soft sigh and rested his chin on his hands, his eyes distant and melancholy.

Both men froze.

“She’s so... vulnerable-looking,” Orlan whispered.

“Maybe we’re wrong,” Reynard admitted. “Maybe she really is just... traumatized.”

But in the back of his mind, a lingering doubt remained. And Yamauca, completely unaware of the storm of misunderstandings brewing around him, continued to plan his imaginary last meal.